


I'm So Glad You're Safe

by CarrotsandDragons



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Custom Hawke, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Character of Color, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrotsandDragons/pseuds/CarrotsandDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling vulnerable after what transpired in the Fade, Hawke waits to reunite with Anders. </p><p>Explicit Sexual Content</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm So Glad You're Safe

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this story to my tumblr, and figured I should post it here as well.

The ‘soup’ she paid for was nothing more than a cluster of mushy green peas tossed into a bath of flavorless water. She sighed, sunny eyes clouding over with disgust as the contents sloshed around the dull ceramic bowl.

She paused; It reminded her of the fade.  
  
“Wait so…this is it?” It was abysmal: a true abomination.  
  
The old innkeeper grimaced, her thin, paling lips pressing down into a tight scowl that would remain till the old bat met the pyre–that much Filia was certain.  
  
“You complain about my cooking every night, girl.” She spat her ‘name’ with vitriol contempt.

The old withered woman made the rounds to every table, plopping meals into the bowls of customers far more desperate for a meal than she. “It would be wise to find another inn to sleep.”  
  
She particularly liked this inn: it was old, dusty and the tables were too close together, but Filia couldn’t leave--not yet--this is where she promised  
she’d be.  
  
“I like your beds.” She shrugged, brushing off her comments with casual ease, “all the other inns have beds that are much too soft, but yours are just perfect: Like camping in the woods.” She fought the urge the to laugh at her joke, but the habit was hard to break.  
  
Unlike her mother, and very much unlike a proper Amell–whose shame scandalous history didn’t stop them from being so stuffy–she wasn’t very hard to please. But a good, firm mattress like the ones in Ferelden was difficult to find so close to Halamshiral.  
  
And she needed the familiarity.  
  
The Innkeeper's mouth twitched, stuck somewhere between a scowl and a frown, as the old woman dipped her ladle in the pot, giving yet another serving of ‘food’ to a one-armed gentleman two tables to the right. Poor fellow.  
  
“And besides,” Filia continued, “I’m waiting for someone.” And he was three days late. Just three days, she reminded herself quickly. Three days. The number was trivial compared to the time they’ve been apart already, but the rain's been pouring down for three days too and the correlation made her anxious.  
  
At that very moment, the wind tore away at the Inn; the planks creaked and shutters banged, the windows shook and the floorboards whistled, crying out as to ask for the mercy of a largely absent God.  
  
The weather, in short, was shit–and as much as she wanted to see her lover, she’d rather him be safe. She needed him to be safe.  
  
  
Lest her fears come to haunt her in the waking hours too.  
  
  
That Nightmare’s voice still buzzed around her ears, whispering perils she’d rather not face. It stalked her in the Fade, twisting her thoughts and dreams into terrors that kept her awake.  
  
  
“No one but a Fool would chance this storm, you'd be a bigger one for waiting." The woman said.  
  
“I can wait.” A sly smile slide it's across her face, it was a smooth, knowing grin that teased the woman and dared the contrary.  
  
Shaking her head, the woman deemed Hawke a hopeless case and moved across the floor to yell at the noisy Bards across a table. (Filia hoped she’d be so sprightly at the age of 202.)  
  
Still, she sighed. Gazing down into her disgusting looking soup, Filia knew it didn't matter what she, that Demon, or anyone else said.  
  
She’d wait.  
  
She’d wait.  
  
For Anders, she’d wait forever and a day.

 

* * *

  
  
The storm tempered on. she could see the shadow of the wash upon the tiny stained glass windows but fought to pay the weather no mind. She liked rainstorms, usually, but the shower was testing her patience.

So, desperate to focus on something other than the weather, Filia began engorging herself on bread rolls and books. She claimed a spot at the corner table after 'dinner' for its center view of the door and sat happily with her claim.

All but captivated by the novel spread out across the tabletop, she sat as a near perfect picture of comfort, with warm brown skin glowing gold by the light of the fireplace and fingers that worked to unbind the dark curls of her hair.  
  
She was 152 pages into the plot, however, when the tavern caught a terrible draft–the sign of a new visitor.  
  
The Bard, and his less talented brother, stopped to greet the newest patron, but the stranger had no interest purchasing entertainment for the evening.  
  
Instead, he gazed around the room with caution. Under his dripping hood sat long strands of dark blond hair that almost seemed to obscure his vision, but his eyes stopped when they landed on her.  
  
“Filia?” That voice–his voice. It wrapped around her like a warm embrace.  
  
She would never know what became of the Dragon or readily captured foe–she no longer cared. Nothing else mattered but her desire to be with him.

* * *

  
  
“Hi.” His smile stole her breath away.  
  
“Hi.” Was this all an elaborate fantasy? Another cruel dream? “How did you get here? The weather…”  
  
“I couldn’t wait any longer to see you Love.” He took her hands into his own. “I’ve been worried.”  
  
“I worried about you too.” Unbridled joy bubbled up inside her belly as pleasant little tingles worked their way up her spine. “But look at you: Anders you’re all wet–and not in the fun way either.” She kissed him, his lips and his hands so warm, so perfect against her own she almost forgot.  
  
But then someone, the Bard’s less talented brother no doubt, made a suggestive noise that reminded the couple they weren’t alone. Embarrassed but mostly annoyed at the intrusion, they separated quickly, cheeks and eyes half-lidded.  
  
“Let’s go to my room.” She suggested, pulling his hand to guide him to the stairwell. He gladly followed her lead.  
  
He gladly followed her lead.

 

* * *

  
  
Before the door was completely shut their lips were pressed together; He may have been cold but his mouth was warm and his tongue hot against hers. Anders, she hummed in delight of him, tasted of something sweet and sultry--a taste she’d been deprived of for far too long already.  
  
She was afraid she’d never see him again, afraid she’d lost him, afraid that demon spoke the truth in the Fade.  
  
But now he was here--she didn't need to be afraid.  
  
“Maker.” He pressed their foreheads together to and gazed into her eyes. “I’ve missed you.”  
  
“I missed you too.” Away from noisy bards and prying eyes, she held him for as long as she wanted to. “I…” She wanted to tell him--she did. She wanted to tell him everything but didn't know how or where to start: The Fade? The Wardens? The Demon whose words still haunted her sleep?  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, to push her honesty, not lies, from the back of her throat but the words pulled away, locking themselves within her armor where they knew it was safe to be.  
  
She couldn’t do it. She couldn't tell him how she felt so instead changed the subject with practiced ease.  
  
“You look well.” Well enough anyway. She could taste whatever it was he’d been eating (a good sign,) but the bags that lingered just beneath his tired eyes betrayed the truth of his well-being; he’d been eluding sleep for quite some time, just the same as she.  
  
She could have laughed–or cried. Bethany always said they were perfect sync–too perfect it seemed.  
  
She could only pray he wasn’t suffering.  
  
“As do you, My Love.” He kissed her forehead gently. “There’s something on your mind.” It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew her so well.  
  
He knew when she was hiding.

“No?” He was right, but talking would make it all too real, make it certain and she couldn’t fall apart in his arms--she didn't want to break.

“No?” It shouldn’t be a surprise, her reluctance to talk about her feelings, but Anders had to try. Slow, steady, and ever so lovingly, he peeled away her armor and loved the scars he found beneath.

He understood her better than anyone could know, she knew she could tell him anything…but that didn’t make it easy.

She knew she’d have to tell him–eventually. But part of her hoped she could solve this by hitting something: by storming the fade and killing the demon that dared to make her feel so helpless. That would be easy.

But would it banish her insecurities?

“No. I…I just missed you is all.” The tender caress of his lips against hers was like a soft welcome home, one she so desperately needed. “I love you so much, Anders.” And he loved her too. She felt it in the way he whispered those words across her lips; he loved her more than he could ever express and she knew because she felt the same.

Filia took his arm, leading him across the room where her sword and armor sat near the window.

Her spare clothes were tossed haphazardly across the room but she couldn’t bring herself to care about them now.

She’d care tomorrow when he teased her about being uncharacteristically messy.

“Let's get these wet clothes off shall we?” He hadn't brought much but the pack strapped to his shoulder and the staff on his back--and those were soaking wet--but her words were more than a simple assessment for future wellbeing.

Anders could tell by the look in her eyes and the way her bottom lip curved between her teeth--They were meant to be an invitation for more than kissing. She wanted him--and he wanted her too.

So he agreed.

And soon wet clothes were peeled away and forgotten in a lump on the floor as Filia and Anders tumbled down into the bed sheets.

 

* * *

  
Warmth surged through her body as they kissed laying naked on the bed, his arms loose around her hips and torso.  
  
Her heart ached, but when she saw the way he looked at her, with love, and lust, and desire, it was like nothing’s ever changed, as though they’ve never been apart.  
  
“I love you, I love you” she almost moaned between kisses. Though her words remained unspoken, the thought was punctuated by the pull of her fingers in his hair.  
  
His mouth followed hers between deep, hurried breaths--so there was no room for talking.  
  
Even when he moved on top of her and kissed her throat to mark his love upon her, all she could manage to speak was his name.  
  
“Anders!” She could hardly control the tremor in her voice and would have been embarrassed had she time enough to think.  
  
It had been awhile since they've been together, she knew that, but she didn’t expect to come apart so quickly. Then again, her hand wasn’t exactly a sufficient substitute for actual love and affection.  
  
And nothing could replace him.

  
“Yes, Love?” He teased, drawing her skin between his lips and teeth, leaving marks to be smug about come morning.  
  
Filia arched into him, enjoy the back and forth movement of his thumb on her neck and the warm weight of his opposite fingers sliding along the base of her breast.  
  
She gasped when he released her, the separation having come with a wet, appealing smack.  
  
Her palms smoothed over the scars and the skin and the bones of his back, desperate for something to grab as she beckoned him back, but Anders pushed down, hungry lips moving toward her core that moistened and sparkled with heat.  
  
Her fingers combed against his scalp as she caught the trial of hair moving slowly down her body; she could feel the stubble of his cheeks scratch against her breasts, stomach, and inner thigh as he kissed a tender line across her, his fingers dragging lazily behind.  
  
“Please.” Her entire being ached for him, so she spoke the word in need, lying in almost pained anticipation for his plunge inside.  
  
And he did not disappoint.  
  
Enthusiastic yet controlled, Anders explored her, his kisses and licks taking her apart from the inside.  
  
“Right there,” she gasped, never shy about letting him know how much she liked the fingers clutching at her thighs or the tongue sliding against her folds and fucking her slit. “Just like that.”  
  
And took direction well. Anders, her sweet love, made such beautiful, happy little noises as he devoured her--hot and hungry moans that could finish her by their sound alone.

  
But there was something, a literal spark of magic, his magic, that raced along her edges and spread warmth throughout her insides.  
  
The part of her that wasn't made of jelly had the mind to push him away, climb on top, and ride him until sunrise (though she doubted she'd make it that long without the aid of more magic.)  
  
Another wanted him to do it--to hurry up and fuck her already.  
  
The third part, however, the part she felt most inclined to listen, wanted to stay just like that--eyes closed and legs open with him in between, pleasing her with no stop in sight.  
  
She hoped she didn't say as much aloud.  
  
Nevertheless, Anders chuckled beneath her and whispered something of a ‘yes love’ before returning to his duties and doing it again.  
  
And again.  
  
And again; each time a little less, a little softer, purposely keeping her at the edge.  
  
He was teasing her again (or giving her what she wanted?)  
  
Never one to be denied what she wanted, Filia pulled at his hair and writhed against his mouth, the pleasure he built inside her growing much too large to contain.  
  
This is what she wanted, what she didn’t know needed till it was there--right there.  
  
And as she moaned and repeated breathless pleas of “Don't stop” and “I love you, I love you” and “Maker please,” --her dreams become reality.  
  
Her orgasm flooded her over, scattering her nerves and filling her with electric kisses.  
  
She wasn't even sure when it ended, only that Anders drew every shock and spasm from her body.

  
She was vaguely aware when he rose and tried to kiss her, but really she was nothing more than a pile of nerves, of lazy, hot, giddy nerves that could have been made of liquid, so she only giggled at the contact.  
  
He laughed when she did--kissing her again as he fell to her side.  
  
“How was that Love?” He sighed, gazing back at her with tender, loving eyes she knew she’d been returning in kind.  
  
“It was ok,” she teased him, a toothy, cat-like grin pulling at the corners of her face.  
  
Her eyes dipped down, taking note of the erection arched up against his belly. “Could’ve be better.”  
  
“Oh?” Anders smiled and rolled his eyes, “was that what I heard you say? I thought you never wanted me to stop.”  
  
“Well...maybe you heard right.” She leaned forward to kiss him, eager for Anders to open up for her exploring tongue--he happily complied.  
  
And for a moment, there was nothing but the rain and the sound of blissful hums in the air between them.  
  
Slowly but surely, however, Filia worked her way on top of him and the mattress creaked and cranked. Her hands moved up and down the skin of his chest as she sat above him, naked legs on either side.  
  
“You must be tired from your trip,” she pushed his hair back and he shut his eyes, taking in the pleasure as her hips moved along his aching cock. “Want me to take care of you?”  
  
“Please do.” He breathed, grabbing around her hips and ass to make things easy.  
  
She leveraged, then lowered down upon him--breath hitching, catching, turning into throaty moans as he parted her tight, velvet muscles she began to ride.  
  
He cursed below her, breath heavy as she bounced and moved and rolled her hips on top of him.  
“Filia,” he moaned her name, moving to meet her languid movements with a slow, rhythmic pace as an orgasm built between them.  
  
She concentrated on his face, on the subtle changes his close-eye’d expression made as though she wanted to hold this moment for eternity.  
  
But soon her body seized, and throbbed, and strained with ecstasy. Sweat began forming all across her but she wanted his release, she wanted him to come with her name on his lips, and to make it so nothing else mattered but the fact they were together again.  
  
So she didn't stop, couldn’t stop until he moaned her name and his orgasm flooded his senses.

  
“I love you.” She sighed with a silly grin spread across her face. “I love you so much.” She kissed his shoulder and his neck and snuggled up close to him.  
  
“I love you too.” He sighed, pushing back the curls of her hair so kindly, so gently--he couldn’t be real.  
  
And what if he wasn’t?  
  
What if this was just a dream? Another horrible, terrifying, wicked dream and he’d abandoned her or something?  
  
Her other dreams were bad--but nothing so achingly real or familiar she couldn’t rise the next morning.  
  
She wrapped an arm around his--pulling his shoulder against her chest.  
  
“Anders?”

Reduced to little more than a light drizzle, the rain’s pleasant taps against the window filled the silence that settled across the room as their giddy high settled into a quiet nothing.  
  
“There’s something I want to tell you. About my time with the Inquisitor. I-wait. Anders?” Filia craned her neck forward, surprised to find her lover buried in sleep.

“Oh you,” she chuckled, rising to kiss his nose and his forehead gently. “I suppose we’ll have to talk in the morning.” It’s what he’d want--and she wanted that too.

By the time the sun rose the storm would be over.  
  
She’d greet him with a kiss, a ‘Hi,’ and tell him everything he wanted to know.

  
For now, however, she’d simply hold him in her arms and fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case it crossed your mind, Hawke's Dog is safe and sound with with Bethany.
> 
> The details of which I hope to explain in some sort of 'morning after' fic~


End file.
